Holding On
by Prince of Tennis' Shaman
Summary: An alternate universe fic-the summary is on my profile but basically, Shu is falsely accused and the best lawyer in the field, Zola, is called on for his defense. Too bad her assistant isn't exactly getting along with Shu...Slight Sahlia x Shu x Bouquet.
1. Prologue

Well, here's the first chapter, or rather the prologue, of _Holding On_. Hopefully the alternate universe fic is alright…I don't know – I think it's really different from _Kaleidoscope_, and maybe in quality. I feel that _Kaleidoscope_ had higher quality than this, maybe because I wrote this earlier (in November) and wasn't on whatever level I'm on now (which isn't that high, anyway, hence my fears for this one).

Ah well, give it try, everyone, please? And review if you have the time or patience – it can just be a "hey, great, continue" or "what the heck are you writing?" and so on…

Disclaimer: I don't own Blue Dragon. I just own the plot for this. That goes for the whole thing, so I'm just going to type this once.

_Footsteps pounded down long-deserted alleys, searching for sanctuary, finding none. The figure never paused, never saw the obstacles, only saw ways to escape and to its immense frustration, could not enact those escapes. A distant scream only quickened its pace as it rushed toward the sound. Shaking off the shadows chasing him, it hastened to reach something…or was it someone rather than something…precious to him._

"_You just wait right there…I'm coming." _

A brown-haired girl awoke to a loud thump. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, she turned to see of her companions, a black-haired boy, currently sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Getting out of bed to help him up, she sighed as he grumbled loudly.

"Shu, what's wrong with you? You've been doing this for a week now."

The boy looked up from his position on the floor and groaned.

"I've told you a few times already, Kluke. All I know is that I'm always running and trying not to get caught because I feel like something important to me is going to get or getting hurt bad."

"And idea what that or who that is?"

"No…but I don't think it's anyone here. I would know the voice if it was one of us, right?" Shu pondered the possibilities. The little band he had gathered consisted of Kluke, Bouquet, Marumaro, Noi, Saria, and Andoropov.

"Probably. But if it wasn't one of us…who was it? And why would that person be so important to you?"

Silence ensued.

At breakfast, everyone detected the change in Shu's personality. Instead of being loud and energetic, he was somewhat…muted. Bouquet and Saria fought over him worriedly, arguing over who had the right to nurse their leader back to health. Marumaro and Noi watched quietly as the two girls screamed in high-pitched voices at each other, fueled by their worry and respective feelings for him. Andoropov silently helped Kluke clear away the dishes, both noting that normally voracious Shu had eaten almost nothing at all. But all of them were jolted of their worries when the sound of police sirens rang loud and clear in front of their small hangout.

"Blue Dragon, you are under arrest." The gang collectively groaned and snatched their respective weapons from a decrepit rack that had been meant to be replaced but the gang was short on money as it could only spend on victuals and means of protection. The wooden thing was falling apart and now creaked every time it was touched.

Andoropov wondered what they had done this time as the gang had been exempt from much activity these days and had really just stayed at the rusting basement of an old, former wealthy company. The metal now just despondently provided no purpose other than the sole mission of being a roof and plumbing.

Shu clenched his teeth together as he prepared to defend his friends, pushing the troubling nightmare to the back of his mind. The Shadows' Power (the actual name of the gang; Shu was actually _the_ Blue Dragon but somehow most people called the little group Blue Dragon instead) wasn't a pack of hoodlums like other gangs and didn't do most of the other things other gangs did like steal, hurt, graffiti, murder, etc. They were just a group of friends who now stopped murders from happening, much like the police, much like Keita. Keita, who had been Shu's best friend but left because he couldn't stand to watch another death like Yamaki's take place. Keita, who used to be so full of laughter and fun when Yamaki, Shu, and the one in question shared leadership of the group, which had not become Shadows' Power yet. But Yamaki had died that night and that was the reason Keita no longer hung out with Shu, the reason he joined the police. He had wanted to bring those people to justice so he come somewhat come to terms with Yamaki's death.

But Shu had set up the Shadows' Power for the very same reason. Knowing sometimes the police couldn't do the whole job, Shu had set the little gang up to protect people from the same fate and avenge Yamaki. Eyes hardening in suspicion, Shu was the first, as always, to appear in front of the police.

"What's wrong, police chief Keita? Something happened that makes us the prime suspect?" Shu kept his tone a bit light, even as he settled into a fighting stance.

"You're under arrest, Shu. Armed robbery and murder at the Grand Kingdom Bank. There's even footage taken by the Independent Corps themselves." The unwavering policeman, the leader of the group gathered there, raised his gun at his former best friend.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. When did that happen and why the hell am I supposed to take responsibility for something I didn't do? The Grand Kingdom Bank and the Independent Corps? Those two are always plotting something and Keita, you know they rig things." Shu retorted angrily, unwilling to become the scapegoat.

"Orders are orders, Shu." The police chief's orange eyes flickered to his uniform, where a silver badge shone hesitatingly in the few beams of the restless sunlight that managed to filter through all the buildings. Shu's eyes softened. Keita was doing all this for Yamaki, anyway. The police chief, evidently also remembering the green-eyed male who had died almost exactly this date last year, tightened his grip on his weapon so much his hands trembled profusely and little beads of sweat slipped boldly down the gun's handle.

"Come on, Shu." Keita's voice had heightened several degrees.

"Keita…" Yamaki and Keita had been very close, to the point of being blood brothers or somehow even more. Shu had always felt like somewhat of a third wheel when the three best friends hung out, but hadn't minded since there was always Kluke, Marumaro, and the others.

"Shu, come on, please." Keita's grip and voice hadn't changed back to its normal grip and tone yet. Shu searched the orange eyes of the police chief and found them pleading, begging silently for him to relent and hand himself over.

"Is there going to be a trial?" He found himself asking—what had he to fear? He hadn't done anything, anyway. So why would he mind going to trial? He watched his former best friend's forehead un-crease itself as the other's hands relaxed their vice-like hold on his gun. When Keita spoke, Shu noticed that his voice had gone back to its usual low tone.

"Of course, of course. We'll arrange for one of the best lawyers in the field."

"Shu, no!" Shu turned to his friends and grinned his usual carefree grin.

"Hey, we know that I never did what they said I did. I'm not afraid of going to trial, especially if I get a great lawyer. Don't worry, guys, I'll be back before you know it." Shu's friends quieted and let the police take him away, expressions of anger, worry, and fear still evident on their faces.

Owari

Well, that's it for the prologue. First chapter will be up soon after ten hits or two reviews. Either one works just fine. Just to make sure I'm not writing this to myself...

How was it? Jiro and Zola make their appearances next chapter…And time to write my essay. Ugh.


	2. Chapter 1

Hey, I'm back. Some disappointment towards this fic, but…I'll continue it. But how is it that while I struggle to keep my drabbles under or at a thousand words when I can barely get a thousand here? I'm confused…anyways, on to review replies.

MeNoKnowBD: Nice name. XD…er, what? No…this wasn't based on _Romeo and Juliet._ O.o' No, Keita is not Escalus. Nor is Shu Romeo. …what? *is confused*

Yamadori: Sankyu~! Okay…but I have a tendency to worry. (Jiro: Not as much as me, though. Me: I think I'd die of stress if I worried about everything like you did. Jiro: I wouldn't have much to worry about if you weren't writing. Me: Touché. But this is about your anime counterpart…well, more about him than you. Jiro: *looks at profile* Me: Okay, never mind.) Yes, I did…whoops, forgot to change it…ah well, for future reference…Cool…thanks again…yeah, but I'm just surprised it didn't take longer. Medicine…*eyes brown icky cough stuff and thinks 'icky' about a thousand times* Here it is~! *grand bow*

Alexandrite Celestea: Thank you, unofficial beta. *cries* You're amazing. Thanks again! Ahaha, please call again (cell). Okay. I will. You too.

On with it!

_First Impressions_

Meanwhile, not very far away, a silver-haired woman looked up from her notes and out the window, noticing the decrease in the flow of traffic. Less people were returning to their homes and she put down the few notes she had on what was to be her latest case. Getting up from her blue glass desk, she had taken off her reading glasses when she heard her apprentice curse quietly. Walking briskly into the kitchen, she saw him examine his finger and then quickly look up and then away when he noticed her come in.

"Everything alright, Jiro?" Amused, the woman strode into the room to stand next to the brown-haired teen. Wanting to glare and slightly wanting to pout, the teal-eyed boy settled for remarking,

"Just great, Zola. Maybe one of these days I'll get by without burning myself at least once." It wasn't even a complete exaggeration, the teen thought exasperatedly. Zola took the ladle from Jiro and scooped the soup the boy had been cooking into two ornately decorated bowls.

"Go sit down, I'll set the table today." He obeyed readily; she almost never did any chore since she was always reviewing or researching something for a case. Since it was the beginning of one today, there was slightly more time since they hadn't met the client yet. It was a nice change to sit down and watch, Jiro mused as he thought about the last case. It had been very easy; Zola had let him do most of the work on that one and the one before and the one before that, it seemed. Of course, most of the time, Zola did more work than he did, but occasionally he got lucky and she let him do more than one-third of the work. He was rattled out of his musing when Zola set down the two trays, one in front of him and one for herself as she sat down across from him. He almost smiled, she had forgotten something. Zola looked up almost questioningly when Jiro stood up and walked around to a cupboard. It wasn't until he took out her silver teacup that she realized what she hadn't been able to remember about dinner. Jiro poured Zola's favorite grey tea into the cup carefully (one burn a day was enough, thanks) and placed it onto a small, customized mat in front of her. Nodding her thanks, the blue-eyed woman took a small sip before the two started their dinner.

"So what's the case this time?" Jiro asked, curious about the latest case they would have to tackle.

"The leader of the gang Blue Dragon was accused of robbery and murder at the Grand Kingdom Bank," Zola started before Jiro broke in, eyes widening in exaggerated surprise,

"People actually invest in that corrupt dump? And who provided any evidence? Were there any? If there was, then it was definitely provided by those Independent Corps. Those jerks are always up to things…" Zola nodded at the small rant.

"Hard to believe, but yes people do invest there. And the Independent Corps did provide the footage, which apparently is the only evidence available currently." She watched as he set down the silver spoon he had using.

"Ready to take the case?" Jiro smirked in reply to her slightly mocking question.

"Of course."

The next day, while the twenty-five-year-old lawyer and her eight-years-younger apprentice went out to meet him, Shu dawdled lazily in his cell. He didn't know that his lawyers were already on their way, but he did know that it smelled like rotten eggs mixed with decomposing roadkill, with a dash of skunk odor, in the prison. There was only one other person in the corridor, a burly brute about twice Shu's size who needed a gallon of toothpaste and breath mints—Shu almost gagged at the smell, which he could recognize when they were about five meters apart diagonally from each other. A light tapping sound and then a crk-crk-crrrrrrriiiiiik sound caught his attention as the wooden door (which could compete with his decrepit weapon rack, he thought amusedly) opened slowly. From his position, sluggishly sprawled-out on the dirty floor, Shu noticed the newcomer's eyes first. They were a shade of…

"Yamaki??!!!!" Shu shot up, hitting his head on the bars of the cell and not noticing it, but the newcomer took a step back in slight surprise and confusion. The illusion of his dead best friend disappeared as he took in the teen's appearance. The hair was the same chocolate color (just slightly lighter, actually, since Yamaki's had been very close to black) but these eyes weren't the laughing green of Yamaki's. These eyes were a colder teal and though Shu wondered briefly why they seemed like colored ice, he became more focused when the teen standing across from him rolled those teal eyes.

"Oi, what are you rolling your eyes for? And what is someone like you doing in here anyway?" He hadn't meant to be so rough, but it had been strangely disappointing when the other had rolled his eyes in that annoyed manner. Coupled with the disappearance of that hope that the boy had been Yamaki, even though Shu knew Yamaki was actually dead, he was really disappointed. And the boy was wearing semi-formal, semi-casual clothes. What was he in for, cheating on an important exam or getting into a fight? Although with such a lean build—being a bit on the skinny side, the other probably wouldn't be able to fight very well…

"Hello? Are you mute now? Anyways, are you Shu? And I'm your lawyer's apprentice and assistant, idiot. That's why I'm in this filthy dump." Irritated voice getting slightly louder, Jiro flicked the black-haired youth in the cell on the forehead to try to get the guy from staring at him much longer instead of answering his question.

"Ow! Hey, watch it! Yeah, I am Shu, and you're a lawyer?"

"Already have all my papers in order, but I'm Zola's assistant right now," Jiro's blue-green orbs met black ones as stubborn met stubborn. Neither backed down in the silent contest, both willing the other to step down first and concede defeat in the battle of wills. Suddenly, there was a slam as the door flew open and then closed in seconds. Both boys jumped, the seventeen-year-old Jiro relaxing as he recognized Zola's figure coming toward them briskly. Shu took in the woman's attire. So this is Zola, he thought. He had heard a lot about Zola and although Andropov couldn't find a lot of information on her assistant, he had heard from others that the boy was already a capable lawyer and that they hadn't lost a case since the two teamed up. He also knew that the circumstances under which they teamed up was very clandestine. Some kind of tragedy…

"So you're the famous Blue Dragon." It was a statement more of a question, although it made Shu grin before replying,

"Yeah, thanks. You my defenders?" Jiro rolled his eyes again. It wasn't a compliment, he wanted to say. But a look at Zola warned him to just bite his cheek before remarking what he had in mind. Zola took out a few files and that was his cue to take out his notebook and tape recorder. Jiro's eyes softened considerably as his hand grasped a beaten, worn, but reliable tape recorder. It had been his dad's last gift to him.

"Mind telling us your side of the story and answering some questions?"

"In this dump?" Shu mirrored Jiro's earlier statement.

"I agree with him on that one, Zola. Let's get out of this rat cage," Jiro wrinkled his nose in disgust. Zola smiled.

"Alright then. Jiro, you stay here and I'll be right back." She left quickly, giving him no chance to offer any alternatives. With a slight growl, he leaned against a wall to wait, not looking at Shu who looked the opposite way away from Jiro.

Well, there it is…Review if you have the time or the incentive to.


	3. Chapter 2

Two chapters in a day…that has never happened before, has it? And I couldn't really find a great place to end it…gah….Well, onwards! XP

_Questions _

Keita was impressed that his station had managed to actually help him secure one of the best lawyers in the history of lawyers (probably) for Shu.

"So we'd like for him to go with us." Zola explained before waiting for any restrictions. Keita smiled.

"I trust Shu—he's an honorable guy. Feel free to go anywhere you want these days. Just don't go too far away from this city." Zola thanked the young police chief and rose to leave with the guard who had the keys to Shu's cell. As the three walked out, Keita looked up from his desk to glimpse seemingly familiar brown hair move out of his frame of sight. Yamaki, he thought immediately. Hurriedly, he leapt from his desk and ran after Shu, Zola, and Jiro. But when he reached the door, they were already gone.

"Yamaki…" Keita leaned on the door for support. Who was that boy? Was he really Yamaki…or someone else?

As soon as he was outside, Shu let out a whoop of joy and inhaled the fresh air frantically, relieved, and exhilarated even, to be out of the prison.

"Glad to be out of there, aren't you?" Zola inquired solicitously. Jiro snorted at the childish behavior and silently wondered how the gang survived with _this _person in charge.

"You bet! That place seriously needs air fresheners! I'm gonna thank Kluke a thousand times when I get home!" Zola grew serious at the words.

"Tell us about your gang."

"Huh? Oh, well, we sort of do what the police do but we call ourselves a gang because we're probably closer than the police are and we take on gangs and other people like that they can't even track. Oh, and Blue Dragon is actually my nickname. Shadows' Power is the gang's real name."

"Shadows' Power?" Jiro tried to keep the incredulousness from manifesting itself in his voice although he suspected he hadn't done a good enough job of it since Shu shot him a dirty look. The seventeen-year-old apprentice refrained from snorting and rolling his eyes again and instead took out his notebook to take notes in neat, meticulous writing.

"Well, we're pretty strong"—at this, Jiro really did snort and had to quickly disguise it as a cough—"and we kind of keep to the shadows because we're not really known for good deeds since most people think murder and violence when they think of the word 'gang'. By the way, where are we going?"

"To Bright & Sunny's café," Zola answered. It was a calm place, not frequently populated or noisy. Shu prodded Jiro on the back of the neck as the two walked in.

"Hey! What?!" Jiro snapped irritably. This guy was part of a gang, the brown-haired teen thought to himself. And a gang did _that_ to my village…His teal eyes flashed in anger and sudden, all-too-familiar anguish. Shu, unaware, asked his question.

"What's that thing on your neck? Looks like some kind of moon over some weird thing…"

"You're right. It's crescent moon. I'm not exactly sure what the thing on the bottom is either. Probably…" He stopped himself there. It hurt to think of the mark on his neck which was a crescent over a circle with three spike-like lines stretching from it. And it was none of Shu's business. It was people like him, people in the gang that had demolished Mafe, the people that had left all for dead and pillaged the entire village that had created that symbol carved forever into his skin, white and raised.

"Huh?"

"It's…it's none of your business!" Jiro hurriedly excused himself to find seats.

"What was that all about? He just gets weirder and weirder…" Shu complained to himself out loud as he followed, albeit at a slower pace. Zola joined them shortly after, having gone to buy cones. Handing Jiro his favorite green tea, she paused slightly before offering Shu the blueberry one.

"Hope you like it. I didn't know your preference." She held her original-flavored yogurt carefully as not to get any on her files and watched as the black-haired teen took a tentative lick, then another, and another…

"Wipe your mouth, slob." Jiro watched disgustedly and pushed a napkin at Shu. Disregarding the insult, the leader of the Shadows' Power picked it up and hurriedly wiped blue liquid away from his mouth.

"Thanks."

"Hm." Jiro uninterestedly and carelessly flipped through his notebook which was almost full from the amount of writing and diagrams in it.

"Shu, about the case…do you know anyone who has a grudge against you? Have you ever gotten in trouble with the Independent Corps and the Grand Kingdom Bank?" Zola asked, getting straight to the point. Shu pondered on this for a moment before answering.

"I don't think I've ever gotten in trouble with the Independent Corps or the Grand Kingdom Bank. I haven't really cared about them…all I know about them is that the Independent Corps are really corrupted or something like that. And about the grudge thing…well, I'm not exactly sure. There might be the leftovers from the gangs we caught or helped caught…"

"Leftovers?" Zola raised an eyebrow while Jiro kept jotting down what the two said, line for line.

"Yeah. People from gangs who weren't caught and hauled off to jail. I guess they might want revenge…" Shu trailed off. Zola looked deep in thought and when she glanced at Jiro, not surprised when she noticed the steely look in his eyes.

"Jiro. Can I talk to you for a second?" Jiro nodded silently, getting up quickly and stalking toward the back of the room which was currently unpopulated. Zola followed, glancing slightly apologetically at Shu as she went after her troubled young apprentice.

"Jiro, you shouldn't be so negative toward Shu."

"I can't help it, Zola…even though Shadows' Power is supposed to help people and probably does, gangs are all the same. They all kill."

"No, we don't." Shu's voice drifted in before he stood up and stepped out from behind one of the tables. Too disbelieving to remember to be mad that Shu had been eavesdropping, Jiro asked for a confirmation, skepticism evident in his voice.

"So you've never killed anyone?" Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and yell at the apprentice, Shu replied,

"Yeah. We don't really believe in murdering people." Teal eyes narrowed as Jiro tried to determine if the Blue Dragon was lying. He didn't seem to be lying, but didn't gangs enjoy violence and killing? Wasn't that why Mafe was destroyed? Zola saw Jiro's hesitance and gently put her hand on his shoulder. Believe him, she urged silently. Jiro sighed.

"Why don't we start on the evidence then?" Zola smiled at her partner's reply, but her light blue eyes widened when she looked at her watch.

"You two talk and try to find out more on who might be behind all this. I'm going to a meeting with the owner of the Bank and from what I've heard, the person is also the leader of the Independent Corps." Shu seemed about ready to protest about having to be with the snarky genius brat of a seventeen-year-old while Jiro seemed to change his mind halfway about having to be alone with Shu (from shocked dissent to concern). Worry revealed itself in his eyes and in the sudden tensing of his body. Zola said nothing, reassuring him with a calm smile and her eyes which softened at the sight of her now anxious apprentice.

"Trust me." Jiro nodded and watched the older woman get into her car. Suddenly a thought struck him.

"Zola, wait!" The woman rolled down a window. Jiro stuffed his hand into his pocket, pulling out a miniature recorder, the one that his father had especially made for him. It was small and unnoticeable, perfect for information gathering.

"Jiro…thanks." Zola knew how much the recorder meant to the boy. It had been the man's last gift to his son and Jiro treasured it infinitely. She smiled and waved before driving away. Jiro watched her go, worry still evident in his eyes and concerns heavy on his mind.

Shu, having been silent during the scene between the two, spoke up.

"You really do care for her, don't you?"

"Huh?" Feeling a blush come to his face, Jiro quickly raised his notebook to cover his face. This didn't escape Shu's notice and the Blue Dragon grinned, snickering.

"Wha…whatever. Let's get to work already." With that, the still blushing teen dragged Shu to a nearby park to continue the investigation. However, Shu was still curious as to why Zola and Jiro were so close, as well as the reason as to why Jiro was so opposed to anyone in any gang. But at that moment, the other didn't seem to be in any mood to give him any answers.

Biting back his questions, Shu let himself be dragged to Hoshi no Mizu Park. The park, literally Star's Water, was the place where many wondrous astronomic marvels could be observed. Legend held that the pond in the park held remnants of stars that had fallen from the sky, still glittering on the bottom of the pond's depths. No one had ever reported on seeing any, though. Jiro selected one of the benches in the shade near the pond and continued from where Zola had left off while Shu answered the best he could. However, it got boring quickly to the black-haired male and Jiro's stress and anger levels went to dangerously high levels as the younger of the two distracted himself with little things.

"This is going to take a long time." The apprentice muttered venomously under his breath.

Owari

It is going to take a long time. :) Sorry, Jiro. :D

Well…any thoughts on your mind you want to tell me? If so (and you're not pressed for time), review and let me know. :)


	4. Chapter 3

Ah…such a long time to update. X_X Well, it's here now (sorry about the wait).

Review replies (Note: I'm going to reply to chapter two and three here.):

WindGoddess Rune: Thanks and here it is. :) Hope you like this one, too.

Yamadori: I'll actually probably have to take it again, actually. *winces* Thanks. Yeah….XD Well, maybe it's true (it's actually pretty simple, even if the circumstances surrounding the two aren't). Thanks. Well, we're going to get to that in this chapter…this was probably one of the parts I was most reluctant to write because it's so tragic (and parallels the anime…actually, it's worse). Chaos…:) Usually, anyway. Wow…thanks again! It'll come later…after some hints and stuff, one of which will be in this chapter. :D I hope it stays that way. Oh, that'll be in the note on the bottom. Yes. Well, that'll also be explained here. It is. :) Oh, and we won't be seeing who that mystery person is…yet. But you're probably right.

Sapphira Lily: *hugs* Saph-chan! Thanks so much for being my unofficial beta! You rock! :)

Dragonweaver: *fake gasp* Oh, you hurt my feelings. XD I'm just kidding. XD XD XD Word choice. Where have you been, fellow classmate? (…writing your awesome story?)

HyperAliceCullenTwin: I didn't change the name because I know it's you. Oh jeez…it's not that bad…is it? *worried* Ah well…

Rosella95: Thank you so much for reviewing. :) It's very helpful and encouraging. Well, that will be explained. Oh…thanks again! -^_^-

On with it!

Broken Glass Struggle

"Are you absolutely sure you've never provoked the Grand Kingdom Bank or anyone associated with them?"

"Yes about the first part…and no, how would I know all the people associated with them? Although if they just had a thing against my gang and what we do…" Shu trailed off, not realizing the importance of what he had just said. Couldn't they skip this part? He wanted to see his friends instead of answering numerous, way-too-repetitive-sometimes questions. However, Jiro's eyes widened as he realized that Shu could have just stumbled onto a possibility. Better not rule that out, the teen thought as he jotted this new bit down.

"If you're done asking, can I start?" Shu asked, watching as the other became silent. Jiro lowered his gaze to the leaf-covered ground where red, orange, yellow, brown, and green all mixed together, covering the paths in a unified, leafy rug.

"What do you want to know?" Watching a golden-pigmented leaf float this way and that, buffeted by zephyrs and carried to its final destination, its resting place on the already blanketed ground, Shu answered in a rather straightforward way, as was in his nature.

"Why you hate everyone so much. Well, besides Zola." Jiro had been watching the same leaf, almost wanting to catch it when it had first started its descent, wanting to do anything but let it fall. Considering his answer, a sudden, all-too-familiar stinging eruption roared in his chest. Jiro swallowed as his throat felt abruptly dry and close up and snapped his notebook shut.

"I think that's enough for today." He managed to choke out the words while his lungs worked furiously, contracting vehemently, rhythmic; contrastingly, he could also hear his heart erratically thudding and beating his chest and he hoped Shu would just forget what the Blue Dragon had wanted to know. But Shu, although slightly concerned by the change in his brown-haired companion (even if he would never admit it), was still waiting for an answer. Jiro sighed, forcibly mentally pushing and shoving the pain to the corner of his mind that angrily fought and rebelled against its constraints, trying to push the pain, all the memories to him again. Uncharacteristically having to search for an answer without _wanting_ to (against his analytical and curious nature), Jiro started cautiously.

"I'm not a misanthrope. I don't hate all people. I can't stand some because I don't like seeing people get hurt or killed and those people cause destruction and deaths, pain. I know you said that the usual connotation of gang doesn't apply to yours. However…why and how is this any of your business? And it's not something I really talk about. Nor do I want to talk about it. It's kind of…kind of…" he couldn't finish the sentence, unable to find any words to convey what he felt. But Shu, even if he couldn't tell much because of the other guarding himself against searching eyes, could see that Zola's apprentice really did have something haunting him. Hurting him. Mentally, physically, everything.

Shu sighed.

"Just let it out. I promise I'll listen." At his client's words, the corner in Jiro's mind that strained to, the confined prisoner, raged viciously now, throwing itself at figurative bars, rattling its chains and screeching for the chance. Jiro's eyes closed shut tightly as he tried to rid himself of a now throbbing headache. The prisoner hauled and twisted at its confinement, lunging and stomping, whirling and _so, so persuasive_. Too determined, too resolved, too final. It had been held back by too long; it had no one except a certain woman to hear it out, and it needed another. It needed _him_.

"Jiro?" Shu's voice sounded odd through the haze.

"Jiro…I'm right here." And then the prisoner completely won, throwing off its constraints victoriously and rejoicing. Shu anxiously put his hands on the other's shoulders when Jiro slumped forward and then shifted sideways on the bench; the apprentice's trembling hands supported his forehead as he somewhat curled up, bringing his knees up support his arms.

"Alright then." Black eyes stared into conflicted teal. The corner, the prisoner, crowed in triumph, eagerly ready to finally let someone know the truth about the destruction of Mafe. As more leaves fell in their own respective ways, drifting and floating, Jiro waited as the lock, the now broken lock, on the prisoner's door opened, all those suppressed memories at last finding freedom. As soon as the lock had been undone, he felt and saw a flood of pictures of desolation and demolition, of discord and violence, of fear and worry, of despair and feelings of uselessness, of guilt and sorrow. The gate had been opened to a now long-gone village, the place of Jiro's birth…Mafe.

It had been seven years ago on a relatively cool day, as were the other days of transition from autumn to winter. Jiro, then ten-years-old, had just started his walk home from school when thunderous cracks split the air. Not knowing what it had been, the young boy ran to one of his favorite places for hide-and-seek, a well concealed hole at the foot of a hollow, tall, and thick oak tree. Peeking out from the place, he saw black leather boots parade down the streets in rhythmic strikes, the ground groaning and screaming from the pounding. The deafening sounds continued, causing the small child to clap his hands to his ears in an attempt to shut out some of the unfamiliar noise.

Crisp, fresh air filled with ashes as houses were burned. The little boy gasped, too appalled to scream, when he noticed people run out of those homes, only to be shot and killed. He recognized a classmate, a friend of his, who screamed when her parents were shot and gasped again, unable to shriek as his throat seemed to have closed in on itself, when she herself was shot through the forehead. Now terrified beyond what he thought was possible, the boy slipped out and ran toward his own house. Papa, Mama, Jina, he thought as he hurried toward the house, careful to keep from being seen. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve, jerking him to a stop forcefully. Being very light, he felt himself lift off the ground before being set down. Spinning around to face his attacker, Jiro almost collapsed. His father stood before him, looking at him worriedly.

"Jiro, there you are. We were getting worried. Son, you have to get out of here. Take the road by the river toward Talta village. That's the next village down. Hurry! There's no time to lose." Teal eyes widening, the young boy voiced his concerns.

"But what about you, Papa? And Mama, and Jina? How will they get there? I want to help, too…"

"I'm going back to save them and they'll meet you there. No, you must not look back. I want you to run without looking back until you've reached Talta. Even then, you must not come back. Wait for us there." With that, the man raced back toward his home.

"Papa!" Jiro's hand caught empty air when he reached for his father. Wanting desperately to do something to help, and yet knowing that he could not, Jiro spared one glance in the direction of his house before running toward Talta. A new sound, harsh and cacophonous, stopped him in his tracks. Ash and smoke assaulted him as the results of the explosion revealed itself.

"Papa! Mama, Jina, no!" The boy raced toward the remains of his house, which had half-collapsed. Running in, he screamed, both in horror and anguish, when he saw his mother's body, still hanging from a noose from the burning ceiling, and his sister's collapsed one stooped over an overturned dinner chair. She was still holding on to her stuffed puppy, his present to her for her birthday, which had been stepped on and ripped apart, by the looks of it. But his father wasn't in the house…

The sound of footsteps caught his attention.

"Papa?" Turning around, Jiro shakily inhaled, disregarding the smoke ash, and retreated a few steps. An unfamiliar man stood in the remaining frame of the door, a gun in his hand. Upon seeing a child alone with the remains of his family, the man laughed a mirthless laugh before putting the weapon away in favor of using a knife. Suddenly, the young boy felt as if he couldn't take another step, scream, or even breathe. As the man advanced, Jiro suddenly remembered his father's words.

"_Wait for us there." _ Wait for them. No, now it was waiting for Daddy only. At Talta. I have to get out of here, the ten-year-old thought frantically. The sound of glass under the strong heels of the boots the man was wearing broke into his thoughts. Hoping to stall, Jiro quickly spoke up.

"Who are you? And why is everyone being killed? What did we do?" As he had hoped, the man stopped.

"We are Nene's allies, the Black Crush. And he has ordered the destruction of this village. I wouldn't know the answer to the last one. All I know is that I have orders to kill everyone. Unfortunately for you, that includes…" he trailed off. Jiro gulped and half-stumbled backward, away from the murderer and toward the back door.

"Sorry boy, there's no escape for you." The man suddenly leapt at the small child, knocking him to the ground easily. The last villager alive, the young boy's cries, his desperate pleading for help, proved ineffective because all that could help were dead. Jiro struggled futilely against his captor whose long yellow hair shaded his face.

"Goodbye, boy." And just before a flash of silver silenced his screams, wide teal eyes saw the scar on the man's face and green, hardened and resolute yet seemingly almost regretful (about killing a child?) eyes. Dad, wait for me, was the final thought as the young boy collapsed into the abyss of his mind.

Unbeknownst to him, a silver-haired woman was about to enter his life.

Zola, on a trip to see one of her clients from Mafe, was shocked to see the quietly prosperous village in ruins. The police had not yet arrived and no one else was there as she drove through the remains. Careful to avoid the scattered and enveloping debris and the corpses, Zola slowly parked and walked around to see if anyone was still alive. When she got to the last house, she noticed that one seemed to still be breathing. A brown-haired boy, about the age of ten or eleven, was still living and she quickly kneeled by him to check the extent of the injuries. Her light blue eyes widened when she saw the knife wound; a long, not deep, but long slash across the boy's stomach seemed to be the only visible wound besides another lesion—as she leaned closer, she suddenly felt a wave of sickening nausea. The cuts on the boy's neck were arranged, done in a way so they formed a symbol—the symbol of the Independent Troops. A target circle with three spikes cut at even intervals; the only thing that puzzled her was the crescent. Had it just been an accident? Or had it been a personal or specific gang marking or some other…

The then eighteen-year-old shook her thoughts away and immediately went back for her car. Although she knew that moving the boy would be risky and could cause further pain, the child needed immediate medical help. Driving carefully to the demolished house, she gently lifted the boy into her car, laying the unconscious child on her backseat, making sure he was as comfortable as he could be. Speeding on toward the nearest hospital, just a few miles away, she cast worried glances over her shoulder at the wounded ten-year-old until she reached Talta Hospital. As doctors and nurses worked to stabilize the boy's condition, the silver-haired woman paced in the corridor outside. Some time after, the main doctor stepped out of the emergency room, holding some files. Zola immediately walked over to him.

"The patient's family or friend?" Zola pondered this.

"His family just died. Mafe was destroyed—I was just there on an errand and he was the only one alive." The doctor stood shocked before regaining his senses and scrutinizing the woman.

"Very well then. He will be physically fine if he doesn't overdo anything. However, the psychological damage is most likely great and irreparable." Zola sighed; minus the physical injuries, this reminded her all too much of six years ago when she lost her father in an accident.

"Can I see him?"

"When he wakes up, yes. But you can go in now although I don't know if he will welcome your company." Thanking him, Zola briskly stepped into the room and pulled up a chair to the boy's bed. He was sleeping, although by no means peacefully. Even in rest, his young face was contorted in pain and despair. Suddenly, the boy woke up with a yell, startling her when he jolted up, disturbing all the tubes that connected him to the various machines. Frenetic teal met worried light blue and then wandered to various parts of the white room. Amazingly, he recovered quickly enough to question,

"Which hospital…is this?" Relieved that he had said something and hadn't remained silent, she quickly replied.

"Talta Hospital."

"Oh." What happened, his brain wanted to know. But he felt too tired to open his mouth again, too tired to ask this woman, this stranger. Zola, noting the conflicted look on Jiro's face, answered his unasked question.

"I found you injured at Mafe and took you here."

"Oh. Thanks." What about Dad, his brain suddenly thought.

"Did you say this was Talta?"

"Yes. May I know why you asked that?"

"My Dad said to meet him here." The teal-eyed boy looked at his hands and then at the bandages wrapped tightly to keep the wound secure and from breaking open again. Zola followed his gaze.

"What is your dad's name? And what is your name, so if I find him I can convince him I'm not lying?" Jiro looked up suddenly at the woman sitting somewhat next to him.

"It's Haru. And mine is Jiro. Um…why…why are you helping me?" Good question, Zola thought.

"I'm not sure myself. I like to think it's because I'm a good person but I think it could be because you remind me of me."

"Huh?"

"I lost my father a few years ago in a construction accident. I had gone with him to work one day and one of the new buildings that were still in construction mode was improperly structured. A pretty big plank fell and I would be dead if my father hadn't taken the hit." Zola's eyes softened in sorrow as she remembered her brave and loving father.

"The blow was too much for his brain, and he died of internal bleeding." Light blue eyes closed. Jiro reached one hand feebly and softly laid it on one of Zola's bigger ones. Surprised, she looked at him. Slightly blushing, the boy murmured.

"I'm sorry about your father. And thank you." Smiling, she gently took his hand into her hands.

"I'll do my best to find yours. In return, I want you to rest up and get better." Standing, she made another promise.

"And I'll come visit everyday." And she did. Besides doing the work her job required, she looked all over and even sometimes under Talta in some caves for Haru and updated Jiro on her daily status. Then the two would just talk about something or another, sometimes about one of her cases, sometimes about their pasts, sometimes about their families, sometimes about his recovery. But days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and Jiro started to lose hope about ever finding his father. However, Zola kept looking. And when six months had passed and Jiro was deemed healthy enough to leave the hospital (although he still to go back regularly for checkups), she took him in. The boy refused to keep "having to depend on her and her generosity." Zola, however, assured him that it was beneficial to her as she was often to busy to look after her house and it would be great to have a companion as she was often by her lonesome. Also, she promised that he would be a big help when she needed someone to work with her on cases. Jiro was finally persuaded and they started living together then.

A few more months passed before the nightmares started. A few days before his eleventh birthday, Jiro woke up with a scream. Zola hurried into his room and found the boy curled up into a ball, shaking, while the covers had all been kicked to the floor. The pillow lay askew from its normal place and Zola quickly gathered the shaking male into her arms as she lowered herself slowly to the carpet.

"Shhh…it was just a nightmare. It wasn't real…"

"It was real. Zola…I saw Mafe get destroyed again. I saw my sister and mother's bodies and my classmate getting shot and my dad leaving me again. And there were so many bodies and fire and…and…And I saw…I saw him again. The guy who tried to kill me." Light blue eyes widening, Zola hugged the boy even closer. Jiro had remained silent on Mafe, no matter how hard she pressed him to tell. And now, the psychological damage the doctor had predicted was manifesting itself. They stayed in that position on the floor until morning when Jiro finally fell asleep. Zola gently lay him on the bed and brought the covers back onto to the bed while she herself made a cup of coffee before going to the firm to pick up a new case.

Many days and nights like that followed until Jiro started to crash, picking up fevers and other illnesses or pain consecutively. Concerned, Zola sent for a doctor who told her it was, like the first doctor had foreseen and what she herself had suspected, psychologically influenced sicknesses. Although Jiro told her that he would be fine, she stayed at home with him until slowly, the bouts of illness stopped. However, the nightmares continued. Gradually, so very gradually, they started to alleviate and Zola no longer needed to soothe Jiro who would wake up and wait for the aftermath to subside before falling asleep again. Soon they no longer plagued him. But although it was somewhat a byproduct of time and the care of the only one who cared for him, Jiro knew that it was also somewhat due to his blocking out what had happened. His refusal to acknowledge it again, even as it crept sometimes into his mind and tortured him. Even when it didn't show its face, he knew that his past was there.

Shu, who true to his word, had listened patiently, reached out and put a hand on Jiro's shoulder. The latter had his forehead resting on his hands, exhausted from telling Shu everything and feeling as if one weight had lifted itself but another was settling in, crushing him. Or at least trying to.

"I won't tell, don't worry." Shu promised.

"Okay." He would just have to believe the other, wouldn't he? The brown-haired teen abruptly stood up and stretched. Walking over to the pond, he stared into it, at his broken reflection. Like broken glass. Broken glass struggling to come back together to become one unique object again. Even if it seemed impossible.

A haze. An unfamiliar, dreamlike mist and an equally strange scene.

"_Don't take my son! Please, I promise you all my earnings, please don't take my son!"_ His father's voice…wasn't it?

"_Your earnings will never be enough. Mafe is in too deep. We'll be taking him as compensation. Be glad we are not taking the three-year-old along."_ A foreign voice.

"_Papa! Papa! Don't let them take me! Papa!" _Why did it sound like his voice? As far as he knew, this had never happened before. And the last time Mafe had been in economic trouble, it had been when he was very little. This voice was older. Maybe a six-year-old?

"…ro! Jiro!" Teal eyes met shocked black.

"What?" Shu gaped at him.

"That's what you say? 'What'? You were in some kind of trance or something and you fell off the bench! You freaked me out!"

"Oh. Well, that explains a few things." Leaving the statement ambiguous, Jiro wondered about the dream (vision? Something else altogether?) briefly again before turning back to his notebook. Shu groaned.

"More questions?" At that, Jiro had to smirk.

"Yes." Revenge for making me talk, he thought. A tiny thought slipped past his defenses.

_And thanks._

Owari

Note: The mark on Jiro's neck is the Grand Kingdom symbol and a crescent moon.

Such a long chapter. Does that make up for the time? No? T.T

Sorry if it was confusing. It was so depressing, too…Ugh, I really don't like writing scenes like these. Well, if you feel like it, click that review button and write up your thoughts on it (reviews make my day and really help me write)! :) Hope to see you next chapter (hopefully it will be happier) and thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

Wahhh~! *cries* I'm so sorry. I've been so busy and all…Well, hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for it. But…T.T I'm not so sure about the overall quality of it…

Review Replies:

Eternify: Okay? *confused*

WindGoddess Rune: Thanks. Yes, it's in this chapter. Thanks again! :)

Alexandrite Celestea: First of all, thanks for repeatedly telling me to update. XD Yay!

Although that's probably not going to happen for this chapter, I'm happy that the last one was up to those standards. :) Thanks again! Have a great weekend!

Yamadori: Thanks…Wah! Senpai! (Jiro: …first panic of the day in the afternoon…not bad.) (Thanks?) Oh…okay. *relieved* Yes. Yes…Definitely. I guess so…XD Yes. Aw, thanks…*blushes* (Jiro: An's practically dizzy from the compliment.)(S-shush.) Yeah…Oh, that's good. Ah. :) Great! It's both… (Nice job!) Okay. Ah…*blushes harder*) (Jiro: *laughing*) Well…there was a long delay, but here it is.

Ru (for the first chapter): Yay! Thanks!

Note: By the way…both Rosella95 and Yamadori-senpai have wondered whether or not Jiro has a crush on Zola. What does everyone think? If you have an opinion on whether or not Jiro should have a crush on Zola or not, please do tell me. (So it'll be like a vote.) Thanks!

Complications

Zola took a cautious whiff at the tea presented to her. The man sitting at the desk laughed pleasantly, although the sound itself was cacophonous.

"Dear me, you seem to think it's poison. Well, don't be alarmed. Here, if you wish, I will take a sip of mine and then you can pour some of yours into mine. I will drink that to prove that I'm not poisoning you."

"There's no need." Zola assured, faking a sip. The man sighed.

"Well, I do know why you're here, Zola. You are very famous, after all—you and that little apprentice of yours." The way he said the last part was amiable, but Zola suddenly feared for Jiro and unconsciously thumbed her cell phone.

"If you know why I'm here, then you know the questions that I want answers to, probably. Like for starters, what is your connection to the Independent Corps?" Sharp blue eyes narrowed instinctively and she secretly turned on the recorder Jiro's father had give him.

"My connection? Poor thing, you're confused. They are just subordinates. They do things for me occasionally just like everyone in this Bank."

"What is their function?" The orange-eyed man pretended to look thoughtful.

"Their function? To serve me. They do anything I say. Even if _it's framing or murdering someone._" Zola's eyes widened. Had he just confessed? Nene grinned.

"There, Zola. I have just told you what you need to convict me. But…I'm afraid you're not going to be able to present this to the judge." Suddenly, figures she had not seen before moved from their places from the shadows.

"And that is why I confessed, dear. Neither you or your apprentice will be able to convict me, even with my confession." A feral grin, a malicious laugh, the sound of grass breaking apart into pieces, the sound of blows.

A distance away, neither Shu nor Jiro knew what was happening in that office. Just before another question, they both heard either ecstatic or shocked cries of "Shu!"

When they looked up, Shu's friends were all there, racing towards the two. Jiro, picking up his notebook and bag, took a few steps back. Shu looked questioningly at him but was distracted by Marumaro, Kluke, Sahlia, and Bouquet all trying to hug him at the same time, while Andropov grinned in the background at the sight. When the blue-haired boy looked up, he found another boy looking on, seeming slightly unsure and awkward. But when he took a step forward, the teen turned and left.

"Who was that?" Andropov called to Shu, the latter buried in a pile of friends. The girls and Marumaro let him go, reluctantly. Shu shot Andropov a relieved grin before looking confused.

"Who?"

"The guy who just left." At his words, Shu immediately looked over where he had seen Jiro last.

"What the-? He just left? No goodbye, no nothing? Gah, he just keeps getting weirder and ruder!" Shu looked indignant, matching his annoyed tone.

"He looked a bit troubled…" Andropov answered. Shu sighed, just a bit worried but feeling resigned.

"Let's go celebrate, Maro." Both other males looked at the speaker. The latter continued on, undaunted by the stares.

"Well, you're going to win the case, right, Maro?" Shu glanced in the direction where he thought Jiro had left.

"Maybe. I mean, of course!" He tried to sound confident, but couldn't stop the niggling feeling of uncertainty.

"Then let's go, Maro." Marumaro hopped impatiently from one foot to the other. Kluke laughed.

"Let's."

While the Shadows' Power left the park to hold a celebration, Jiro had started walking back to the Café. He has every right to have fun with his friends, the teal-eyed teen told himself. Then why…then why did he feel hurt? Oh, that was absurd. He wasn't feeling hurt, least of all…jealous. Jiro sighed, the sound defeated. He never could lie to himself like some other people could. He knew his feelings, no matter how foreign they were.

But…was he jealous because Shu had so many friends, carefree happiness in the face of being prosecuted? Didn't he have Zola? Wasn't he happy being with her? Yes, he didn't have the ability to be carefree, couldn't let go of his past, but…he had gotten used to it, hadn't he? Looking up at the murky sky, he leaned carefully against the side of a building.

So confused. And so alone.

After a few minutes of contemplating whether or not to cross the street and get lunch, he stepped out into the crosswalk.

Keita had just gone on his break when he noticed seemingly familiar brown hair just a bit ahead of him. Not daring to hope, he pushed by a few passerby and had almost caught up to the brown-haired male when the teen stepped off into the crosswalk. The orange-eyed police chief, then close enough to see the other's face, saw that the teal-eyed male was one of Shu's lawyers (Or was it the lawyer's apprentice? Either way…), the one he had seen go by his office.

"Hey, get off the crosswalk. It's dangerous…!" Just as he had spoken, a red limousine came speeding around the corner. Taking off running, Keita just barely made it and grabbed Jiro's elbow, pushing the shorter boy to the other sidewalk. But Keita miscalculated Jiro's weight and they landed slightly farther than he had thought they would fall, almost in front of the café.

"Woah, are you okay?" the police chief immediately sat up and tried to prop the other into a sitting position. But when Jiro's head dropped back towards the ground again, Keita realized that the other was unconscious. Figures, the orange-eyed male thought. He's probably been through a lot today…and most likely because of Shu, he surmised.

Curiously, he felt a slight stab of animosity toward his former best friend for hurting the sleeping teen in his arms. Shaking his head Keita lifted Jiro onto his back and carried the (luckily for him, light) boy to his house, fortunately not far away. Still, one thought disturbed him. The limousine could have stopped, yet it had sped up even more. And that limousine should have belonged to Nene, the head of the Grand Kingdom Bank and one to be feared. If it had been intentional, like it seemed right now, did this mean Nene saw Zola and Jiro as a threat to proving the police and the Bank (and therefore, the Independent Corps) wrong and Shu right? Was Shu right? Was he innocent?

Jiro didn't seem to be waking up any time soon, the fair-haired male noted as he lay the other on his huge sofa. Well, at least now he was actually using the furniture… Sighing, he called into the station to excuse himself from paperwork for the day and remind the others to call him if something big came up. Standing up, he walked into the kitchen and made some coffee. After all, he had a guest, even if that guest was currently in an unconscious state. As he stirred the coffee, he wondered one thing that had been tugging at him ever since he had first seen Jiro walk by with Zola and Shu. Why did the apprentice resemble Yamaki so much? Was it coincidence that he would find another Yamaki? No…not another. No one could replace Yamaki. But was this a second chance? To protect Jiro this time…would it somewhat lessen the harshness of not being able to protect Yamaki? Walking back into the living room, he stared down at the sleeping teen.

"Why do you resemble him so much? Am I supposed to make up for not being able to keep Yamaki safe?"

Jiro felt like he couldn't open his eyes. Like they had been nailed together. At any rate, it stung to try and yet he wanted to open them because there was someone near him and he did not know who it was. But…he could hear soft words, soft questions, that confused him to no end.

Keita started when he noticed that Jiro was starting to stir.

"Are you alright now?" The reaction from the other male was not one he expected.

Jiro had not expected to find someone's face so close to his. After all, he did not like being too close to others; Zola was the only exception, although Shu was…So he did the first thing he thought of and lifted his arm to throw the other away from him.

"OW! Okay, is that how you treat the people who save you?!" Keita winced as he struggled to get up. Man, the kid (although Keita himself was only three years older) looked slightly small, but sure had a nice throw. Now Jiro was entirely confused, although he tried not to show it.

"What?"

"Don't you remember? You kind of stepped into the limo's way. I got you out of there just in time but you hit your head and blacked out. Jeez, I didn't kidnap you, okay?" Jiro looked at his hands—one was bandaged.

"Oh. Sorry about that. I was surprised." And you were too close, his mind added. Keita followed his gaze.

"Your hand got scraped, too. And don't worry about it." Grinning, the orange-eyed male sauntered into the kitchen to get the coffee. Setting the cup down in front of his guest, he settled down in one of his beanbag couches.

"Oh. Thanks." Jiro wondered who this was. All he knew was that this man was the police chief and that he used to be one of Shu's friends.

"Um…about before. This is really blunt and impolite, but I'm curious. Who were you talking about and how come you couldn't protect him?" So he did hear, Keita thought.

"No, it's fine. Well, his name was Yamaki. A little older and taller than you, but you two look a lot alike. Although his eyes were green, not teal. He was Shu and my best friend. Maybe even closer with me…" Orange eyes closed.

"What happened to Yamaki?"

"He was murdered." Jiro gasped, the sound almost inaudible.

"I'm sorry." The yellow-haired male sighed.

"Don't be. I heard you got a past, too."

"Oh. Yes, I guess so. My mother and sister were killed, and my father went missing." Numb. He used to cry, or at least want to, when he had to think about what happened. But…it had been so long and he wasn't over the shock over what had happened to…Yamaki, was it? He felt as if he knew the male. As if on cue, the voice from the strange vision (was that the right word for it?) came back. Keita's louder voice cut through it.

"Did you find him yet?"

"No, not yet. But I will find him. He is still alive. He has to be." Orange eyes met teal, seeing the determination and faith in the other's father. Jiro then stared into the cup, watching white cream swirls move like serpents in the coffee, which was darker than was his taste, but he shouldn't complain…Zola wasn't back yet, was she? If she was on her way back, she would call…reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. No calls had reached it. Therefore, neither Zola nor Shu were…

Well, fine. He would be fine without either of them, of course. Time to ask some questions regarding the case. He was a lawyer (or at least an apprentice to one, anyway) after all. Keita noticed the change in Jiro immediately; teal eyes became more apathetically serious and his posture straightened, suddenly the image of a laboriously studious worker.

"Keita… as a lawyer's assistant to a police chief, may I ask you a few questions about Nene and the Independent Corps? Along with some information that needs to be clarified about the Grand Kingdom Bank and about the nature and what is supposedly evidence of the case…" Jiro trailed off as he fingered his notebook and took out one of his ballpoint pens from his black jeans pocket. The blond lounging lazily on the purple couch sat up in response to other.

"Of course. I'll tell you all that I can." An aura of understanding wafted pleasantly, settling comfortably invisibly into the spacious room.

However, Jiro had barely asked his first question when his cell rang. The call was from Zola; her number was the only one in his phonebook and therefore the only one his cell recognized.

"Zola?" However, the female voice was not hers.

"Are you Jiro?" Immediately, the teal-eyed boy's mind was overcome was worry and he had to calm himself down considerably before being to choke out an answer.

"Yes…yes, I am. What…happened?"

"Miss Zola has fallen from a window. She is at Talta Hospital. You were the first one on her cell."

"I'll be right there!" Jiro hung up and bolted for the door. Keita caught his wrist.

"Wait, I'll take you to wherever you need to go, I can drive." Jiro nodded wordlessly and the two hurried to the hospital. When they had gotten there, the nurses at the front desk gave him a brief summary of what had happened and sent him to her room. Feeling like his throat had permanently glued itself together, Jiro raced down the hall, disregarding the looks of disapproval from the other people gathered around. Keita followed after, apologizing while keeping an eye on the brown-haired teen who had abruptly stopped. Right in front of the room Zola should be in… Jiro almost rushed in headfirst; Keita grabbed his elbow and yanked the other back before knocking. A nurse ushered them in.

Zola lay motionless on the white bed, bandages dark compared to the sheets and walls. There were many cuts and bruises, none fatal-looking, yet so numerous. But Jiro was mostly concerned about the bandages wrapped around her head. The main doctor had followed his worried gaze and answered his imminent question.

"She sustained a head injury from a fall, most likely. We don't know if how much it's going to affect her yet. It should just be a concussion, but it might…be a while before she wakes up." Keita, noticing the dazed look in Jiro's eyes, quickly moved behind the other to support him if the other needed it. The doctors and nurses moved out of the room. Jiro did not speak for a time, but before Keita could offer words of comfort, Jiro looked up, his face an unreadable mask.

"She did not get those injuries from falling out a window."

"Excuse me?"

"You are a police chief, Keita, look at those wounds. They look more like the injuries one gets from a fight. Zola can hold her ground. Usually. And Nene did this." Jiro's analysis seemed to be valid. Except…

"You really think it's Nene?" Keita asked, mind flashing back to the limousine. Could it be…? Jiro turned to him.

"Of course. She went to his place, she got hurt at his place. That proves it. He sees her as threat and she probably got some information that would have convicted him. He probably beat her up or had someone do that for him and then somehow dropped her from somewhere just to make it seem like she fell out a window."

"From his office?"

"Of course not. Then she would have died. I know his office is on the topmost floor." Jiro's teal eyes scrutinized the damage some more. Keita watched him uneasily. This was not looking good. To have Nene and the Independent Corps as opponents…

"So…what are you going to do now?" The question came easily enough. The younger looked at him and smirked.

"What else? I'm going to continue the case. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. For Shu and Zola. I'll do everything this time." Suddenly, teal eyes widened and he all but pounced on her bag.

"What are you doing?"

"My recorder…" Jiro rummaged hurriedly through the bag; it was only seconds but it seemed like the Great Wall had been built in less time than it took for him to find the small object. Jiro held it up silently as an answer to accompany his verbal one. Orange eyes widened in understanding.

"Did it..?" he breathed. Jiro examined it. It didn't seem to be too damaged, Zola's purse had had other things underneath the item and that had cushioned it against whatever happened. Closing his eyes in newfound hope, he pressed play. Shu chose now to slam the door open, startling Jiro and the latter pressed pause quickly.

"Jiro! What the…Zola? What happened to her? And why are you here, Keita?" Shu asked, all in one breath. Keita shrugged ambiguously and Jiro bit his lip.

"Oi, Jiro. What is wrong with you?" The brown-haired teen glared at the Blue Dragon before deciding that Zola would have wanted him to be on _okay_ terms with the client.

"She got hurt. That's all you need to know. That and Nene's involved with this." Shu groaned.

"Oh no." Keita closed his eyes in agreement and Jiro returned his attention to the recorder. I'll listen to this later, he thought. Without Shu nearby.

Keita stared at Zola's unconscious form once more and spoke up.

"Shu, can I talk to you? Please and now?" The urgent look in frantic orange eyes easily convinced the black-haired teen to agree.

"Sure." Jiro looked at them quizzically, curious, but returned his attention to Zola. The two walked to the cafeteria in the hospital to get something to eat. Then, retreating to a rather isolated spot, Shu kicked some dust particles around, waiting for Keita to speak.

"What is it, Keita?"

"Shu…Shu, I want you to call Jiro off this case. Tell him something, anything. Just stop him from continuing."

"Huh?" Caught off guard, Shu stared at the other as if Keita had suddenly sprouted antlers.

"I mean it, Shu. If Jiro keeps on this case, he'll get seriously hurt. You and I both know that Nene will do anything. If it wasn't apparent earlier, it is now."

"Keita…"

"Shu, I lost Yamaki once. I am not losing him twice. And shut it, I'm not replacing Yamaki with Jiro. But they're the same in some ways and I've finally been given the second chance I wanted…no, needed. I can finally prove now that I can protect him. Shu watched his friend quietly throughout the police chief's outburst.

"Keita, you have a point. But if I tell him to stop investigating, I will do so as _Jiro's_ friend. Not because I think I need Jiro to be a substitute for Yamaki or as you put it, a _chance_. Yamaki is Yamaki and Jiro is Jiro. I'll ask him because I value Jiro's life." Keita glared at him, although he was relieved.

"I value his life, too, Shu. That's one of the reasons why I became a police chief." And then it was ambiguous whether or not the statements were referring to Jiro or Yamaki.

Meanwhile, completely unknowing of what the other two were conversing about, Jiro looked tiredly at the recorder and then at Zola. He couldn't listen to the thing here and he didn't want to leave Zola. But one of the others could watch over her; he made up his mind to find Shu to tell the latter to watch over his…friend and mentor. But he hadn't taken two steps before finding his progress arrested by one large hand, another huge one over his mouth. From the mirror across from him, Jiro could see a burly man clad in familiar black clothes. The teen struggled uselessly against the much stronger, bigger man. Jiro tried his luck at removing the hand from his mouth, hoping for something, anything, to work. He knew those clothes—especially since they were the garments of the people who destroyed Mafe.

To his immense surprise, the hand was temporarily removed.

"What do you want?"

"To end the woman's life. And of course, yours too." Jiro winced although this was the answer he had expected. He stood little chance, he knew—he certainly could fight but this seemed like too much. Jiro had no weapons with him and continued struggling futilely. This was going to end badly unless Shu and Keita got here in time. Of all the times, they had to be absent now. His next thought disturbed him even more.

Had Nene known that Jiro was alone with an unconscious Zola and purposely sent the man now? Was he watching? Or had the man been the one watching? He was knocked out of his musing forcefully, crashing into the wall opposite the mirror. That's what I get for not paying attention, he chided himself mentally and got up groggily, holding a hand uncertainly to his head. It hurt but he had endured worse, hadn't he? In a sudden move, he charged at the man who had started for Zola. Ducking the blow for his head, he got in one shot at the man's unprotected neck. With a grunt of pain, the man slammed his huge fist downwards but Jiro deftly dodged it, gracefully flipping back with all the ease and elegance of a feline. His mind stacked itself full with sarcastic comments but right now really wasn't the time…Teal eyes watched cautiously as the man advanced on him. Why, oh, why, did Shu and Keita have to take so long? As if reading his mind, the man smirked.

"You're alone, boy. Alone and about to join the spirits of the underworld." Jiro rolled his eyes.

"Thanks. Next time, how about thinking up a few new ways of telling me that you're going to kill me?" Oops, sarcastic comments piled over and he had let one slip. The other's burned in seething anger. Get him mad, a little voice in his head urged. Goad him into attacking you, it continued. Jiro raised his voice.

"You really suck at the whole insults thing. Can't you make up any new derogatory barbs? I mean, it's not like you're stupid…er, maybe you are. Oh, sorry, did I just tell you the awful truth?" The man growled, incensed, and leapt at him, completely consumed and dominated by his anger. Jiro sighed mentally. Zola had been right about another thing. Men were prideful beings that usually couldn't control their feelings. Especially anger. Anger had to be controlled and channeled into ways to attack or defend. That's what Zola had said. It could be fuel, but never be the sole controller. The mind had to always be in control. Yes, ma'am, Zola, he thought and with some difficulty, was able to catch the man off balance as the other missed and propel himself into the other's back.

The man let out a fierce cry as he slammed into the wall. Jiro landed easily and spun around to watch what the adversary now, crouched much like how the tiger does when he is not sure whether to defend or attack. What do I do now, he asked the little voice that had been in his mind earlier. He knew it was considered insane to talk to oneself, but he really wasn't actually talking and besides, he wasn't completely sane anyway. Or the sanest person in the world, anyway—the first sounded like he knew he was insane. Oh, whatever, he scolded himself. Why was he deliberating this when the other man was getting up? The white door flew open. Apparently, Shu and Keita had heard the man's earlier yell of pain. The two immediately hurried to their friend's aid. Keita looked worriedly at the small amount of blood coming from a wound covered by Jiro's brown hair.

"What happened?"

"He's one of the people who hurt Zola. Or at least helping the people who hurt Zola. And he's still after her, except I'm apparently included as a target." Orange eyes narrowing, Keita took out his police badge.

"Don't move. You are under arrest." The man smiled cockily.

"I don't think so." And then the room was filled with smoke. Jiro cried out and immediately threw himself over Zola. No one was going to take her away from him. He would rather die than let that happen. No one was allowed to leave him like his family did, not when he could prevent it. Keita had blindly followed Jiro, keeping his hand on Jiro's sleeve. Shu, who remained where he was, struck randomly, hoping he was keeping the enemy away from him. When the white haze had disappeared, the man was gone. Shu looked worriedly around, but no one had been taken with him. Jiro slowly unstuck his eyes, teal eyes checking first on the still sleeping female and then moving to the police chief who still had his hand on the first's arm. Keita followed his gaze and then jolted out of his worry with a start, letting go. Jiro then looked over at Shu, relieved when he found the black-haired teen still there.

With a gasp, his hand reached for his recorder. To his immense surprise, it was still there. He had assumed the man had wanted it…When he looked up, Shu and Keita were staring at him weirdly. Shaking his head, he mouthed the words

"Tell you later. Trust me on this." It had suddenly felt that the atmosphere was too crushingly heavy to talk any louder. Keita's eyes gave his worried weariness away and Shu's shoulders drooped; the aura of drowning severity weighed heavily on three pairs of battle-weary shoulders. But none of them were giving up, especially a certain seventeen-year-old whose teal eyes were now directed out the window. They were on a higher floor than most people could jump. In fact, if a person jumped out, they would most likely die. Suddenly remembering what he had first wanted to talk to Shu about, he turned to the black-haired teen.

"Shu, I need you to watch over Zola for me. Please. I need to go find out…" He was cut off by vehement protests from the other two.

"No, Jiro, you're not doing this anymore. Stop investigating! Just stop. Just go home and sleep or something. Take a break, no, just completely stop working for Shu. Stop working for this case." Keita started.

"Listen to him. Listen to me, too, Jiro. We don't doubt your abilities, but we're your friends. And we're afraid for _your_ life. Especially now since Zola is already pretty much down." Shu continued.

"No! Are you guys hearing what you're saying? I'm a lawyer, or I'm going to be one eventually and I don't give up cases like that. I was taught never to do a job halfway, and I'm not going to. I won't stop working, especially for a…a…" Jiro faltered, unsure of what he was supposed to call Shu (a friend, a rival, a peer, an idiot, a client, er…) and hurriedly continued before either of the other two could interrupt.

"And you don't doubt me? Don't answer that. And Zola is not 'down'! She is going to wake up and we are going to finish off this case. Even if she doesn't make it in time for the case, then I will finish it. And she will wake up. She definitely will, Shu, and don't you dare raise anymore protests." The teal eyes narrowed into a practiced glare that could start stampedes and burn up the sea and turn it into hot soup. He liked to think of it that way, anyway, even though Shu wasn't particularly looking scared or anything. But Keita and Shu both now looked slightly guilty. However, Shu still had his tongue.

"I mean it, Jiro. Don't do this anymore."

"Watch over Zola." With that, Jiro flew out the door and toward the elevator, leaving two stunned friends, too shocked even to stop him or mutter his name in dissent.

The seventeen-year-old practically was flying; Zola had always complimented him on his speed. His stamina wasn't the best, but when he needed to run, he could run for some time and his speed would get him pretty far. Running to the nearest bus stop for his and Zola's home, he paced nervously until the vehicle came a little while after.

When he had reached the place and let himself in, he went to his room, shutting the door, unplugging the house phone, and closing the windows and blinds. Curling into a little ball, his arms encircling his knees, he took out the recorder. Taking a deep breath, he pressed play. He had been afraid of an onslaught of noise, but the words coming out of the miniature item were soft. With trembling hands, he held shakily on to the little thing, hearing everything Zola had heard and said. Nene…

Yes. So his and Zola's guesses were correct. Nene had been behind the whole thing. He could already prove Nene was guilty now. But…the Independent Corps…and the Black Crush? Suddenly, a thought whirled itself into the front of his mind and he almost pitched forward off the bed at it. What if…what if the Independent Corps and the Black Crush were one and the same? He knew some Independent Corps were in the Courts. Shu would lose if he went against Nene now if members of the Black Crush were in the Courts. Even if he himself could testify for Mafe….it wouldn't be enough. And then Shu and himself would be killed or "put away" in some other way. He had to prove that Nene and the Independent Troops were guilty for a lot of things and get enough evidence to prove that there were Black Crush members in court.

Now it wasn't just for Shu, he thought. A new goal had manifested and established its forever regimented roots in his mind. To bring the murderers of Mafe to light. To bring justice…for his former family and friends. And for Zola, who was currently virtually comatose.

Stashing his father's last gift to him carefully in his bag, he set out again.

Keita had rushed out after Jiro about a full minute later, leaving Shu to look after Zola with instructions to call him if anyone else tried to kill her. Shu had agreed, wanting to chase after Jiro, but knowing that Zola needed protection now, as she was currently the most vulnerable to any attack.

The police chief wondered where his brown-haired friend had gone. Most likely back to his house, but…Jiro might have already have gone to wherever he had wanted to go to find out more for the case. Letting out a soft groan in frustration, he ran toward his car and hurried out of the hospital parking lot hoping to find the other somehow. Why had he not gotten Jiro's cell phone number earlier? Almost growling with annoyance and worry, the fair-haired police chief unknowingly passed the person he had been looking for. Jiro walked past, also unaware of his friend. The teen was focused only on his task of going to the man rumored to be the Black Crush member in the Courts. The man was known to most as General Rogi—known as a general because of his former experience in the army. He had been an excellent war leader and was now rumored to be working under Nene.

Jiro was so busy mulling things over in his mind, he bumped into a man walking the other way.

"Ouch…Uhn, um…Sorry about that, I wasn't looking." Bowing to accompany his apology, Jiro would have kept on if the man hadn't spoken.

"It's quite all right." That voice stopped him in his tracks. It made him forget everything that had just happened and his feet abruptly halted its progress. He even forgot to turn to look at the man again and the other left, unaware of the boy's shock. Finally, when he was able to think again, he spun around and searched frantically for the dark-haired male that had just left. To his immense disappointment, he could not find the other in the sea of people out walking that day.

"Dad…" his broken whisper reached nobody and he leaned against the wall of a store, suddenly again exhausted. So many questions and no one could answer them yet. Had that been his father? If so, why hadn't the man recognized him? Had he…had the man…even been real?

The noise of everyday life buzzed in and out to the solitary teenager, sounding separate and detached and confusing, giving him a headache. Closing his eyes, Jiro rested the back of his head against the cold surface.

No one noticed the pair of dark eyes watching the teal-eyed boy huddled at the side of an ordinary bookstore.

Owari

End of that chapter. *sighs* About 5,500 words…that's the longest chapter I've ever written (I think). So…tired…well, thanks for reading. And reviews are loved and appreciated.


	6. Chapter 5

I'm…really sorry…again. More than two months…that's really…something. *bows and apologizes endlessly* But…this story…I don't know, but maybe because this one's the closest to a climax, was the hardest to write. As a result, I'm not sure how well (if well at all) this chapter turned out (not reassured at all because my unofficial beta is in China and unable to see this, even if Alexandrite-san doesn't really edit any of my stuff before everyone else sees it…) and, well, I hope you like it as much as I hated writing it. (And I lost my papers with my notes and scribbles concerning this fic...Not fun. Not fun at all.)

Review Replies (Thank you, reviewers, for making my day every time I see one of those notice thingies in my email that tells me I have gotten your feedback):

WindGoddess Rune: Ah, yes, he has plenty of places to get rid of them. Thank you. :) Alright then. :D Yes, he would...Oh! Yes, I think so. ;)

Kasumi Kusanagi: Hi! Thanks for the input! :) (*laughter* Me too. Jiro's awesome.)

Alexandrite Celestea: My unofficial beta who is in China right now and won't see this until you come back! *huggles* Thank you~! I'm sorry it looks like I'm ignoring your suggestions, but I will fix them...in time...*nervous laughter* Thank you again~!

Yamadori: Senpai~! Hi~! Thank you and it's fine. ^^ Oh...Ack! A-are you feeling better now? Thank you...(You're one to talk, Jiro. Who kept on blushing when I read aloud what I was going to write in _Mochi_?)(Jiro: *trying not to blush* Oh, shut up.) Okay, that's two votes for "yes" and no votes for "no." (Jiro: Hey!)(Sorry...but if you had your way, I'd have to rewrite the whole story as to make it seem your _counterpart_ doesn't havfe a crush on Zola.)(Jiro: But..but...still...we're almost the same person...well...okay, different circumstances and such, but...)(*pats* It's okay.) Oh, good question. Noi and Marumaro are younger (twelve) and everyone else is sixteen, like Shu. Hm...Let's ask. (Jiro: *blushing* No, let's not and say we did.)(*rolls eyes*) Keita...yeah, he's really starting to. No, you're right, he is. Wh-whoa...your prediction was correct. The connection is pretty much made clear in this chapter. It is...ah, he would. :) *laughs* He is a very witty person. ;) *laughs again* You're really good at guessing. Oh, that's made clear here, too. Thanks again~!

Notes: A lot of filler stuff. But the filler stuff is where Jiro gets most of his clues, so…And the connection between Jiro and Yamaki is made pretty clear. Alright, really clear. And about his father...

Dedication: Everyone who gave this fic a chance. Thanks~!

Drowning Lotus

It was while before he garnered enough will to trudge onwards toward the huge corporate building. Rogi was the manager for one of the best hotels, very near the bank itself and a movie theater. The three amazing architectural feats put together seemed to make a fort, a stronghold for Nene and Rogi and the rest of the Independent Troops. Rogi was rumored to have a young blond working as his chief assistant, while a "Cynthia" and a "Lemaire" ran the movie theater. He had decided upon seeing Rogi first – if Rogi met him and cooperated willingly, he'd find some leads. If Rogi refused, he'd track down some leads. The end result was the same, but the methods depended on a mysterious man everyone had heard of, but not many had seen…

Minutes seemed like hours as he neared the ornately designed hotel, strangely and yet aptly (in Jiro's case, anyway) named "The Battleship". Swallowing any apprehension, he pushed open a gold-embroidered door and entered, glancing around a bit warily. When the violet-haired woman at the front desk beckoned to him, he stepped forward, still somewhat nervous (Zola had been present every single time there was case before this). "I'd like to see the manager, please," Jiro spoke pleasantly enough, polite and precise, hoping no roundabout answers would be necessary. The woman arched an eyebrow inquiringly, "What for?"

He met her gaze evenly. "I'm investigating a case right now for a client. I'd like to ask Mr. Rogi about a couple things. He's not pressured to answer, of course, but it would be in his best interests to do so." Straight-to-the-point, as usual. The woman's dark blue eyes narrowed, but she picked up the phone anyway. "I'll tell him right now." He nodded his thanks before letting his eyes wander around the lobby. There were many paintings, of dragons and phoenixes and grand Egyptian-like warriors, saber-tooth tigers and hippopotamuses (he found that slightly odd, but said nothing) and killer bats (funny, he thought of Zola when he saw it), and…Minotaurs. It was strange, but he felt oddly drawn to the green, painted beast. Its red eyes seemed to pierce into his, and it was as if the _picture_ was trying to say something…

"…see you now." And with that, the silent message that the Minotaur had been conveying, _if_ it was conveying anything, was gone. He blinked, catching the end of her sentence, and nodded again before starting towards the elevators. Glancing towards the map in between the lobby's elevators, he saw that the office was on the fifth floor…

And just as he stepped into a half-full elevator, another person ran in, breathless. Keita looked around wildly before catching a glimpse of the forest green jacket Jiro had been wearing inside the closing elevator doors. Orange eyes widening, he ran for the next elevator up, hoping he would be able to catch the other. _Don't let me be too late, please, please don't let me be too late…not again, not again_ … A flash of red and green and brown and _closed eyes_ and _Yamaki why why why why why why_ raced through his mind before he bolted into the next available elevator.

Meanwhile, Jiro remained unaware of Keita's turmoil as he raised his hand to the marble knocker on the office door. It was furnished nicely, expensive-looking – just like the rest of the hotel. A voice rumbled out "Come in" and he complied, pushing open the door to see a blond man bent over some paperwork.

"Mr. Rogi?" He stood, not making a motion to sit until a hand waved him towards one of the red, velvety chairs. The man himself then looked up, the motion making long blond hair swim over his shoulder and revealing _a long scar over his eye_. It took Jiro a slight while to realize the shocked gasp had come from him, not from the other man. It also took him a while to notice that he had knocked over the chair from standing up too quickly. "Y-you…You're…Th-that's why…Why…" Interview forgotten, Jiro stared at the other man, the person _who had killed _everyone_ back then, everyone, tried to kill me, made my father go missing, it's him I hate him I hate him I hate_…

But before Jiro could lunge at Rogi, the door flew open with a loud bang, making the vases and accessories near it shake. Keita strode in, police badge in hand. "Jiro, are you okay?" He asked worriedly, urgently when he saw the shaken and furious and _utterly _destroyed, despondent look in the other's eyes. Laying a calming, soothing hand on the other's slightly trembling shoulder (from fear or anger or some other emotion, he didn't know – perhaps a mixture of several different ones), he kept his gaze steady when Jiro jerked suddenly and turned to him, looking slightly startled at Keita's appearance. "K-Keita…?" The teal-eyed teen hated how his voice still hadn't resumed its normal tone, how he couldn't return to a sense of normalcy besides knowing that the police chief was next to him…_Police chief. That's right. I-I have a job to do. For Zola. For Shu. For myself. _

Forcing one last calming, shuddering breath to release all the tension and confusion and despair and _hate_, he righted the chair and sat down hard. Although Yamaki rarely was completely serious, there were those few times and Keita recognized, easily enough, that Jiro had switched to the business side his personality. _They are so similar it hurts…the steeled voice, the hardened eyes_…_The apathy…_

"Mr. Rogi, please forgive my…outburst. Now I'd like to ask you a few questions and for you to answer them to the best of your ability, without fabricating anything." It sounded good enough, he thought. Maybe he had learned a lot from watching Zola. Keita was watching him cautiously, but relaxed enough to lean on the desk, his head resting on his clasped hands, scrutinizing Rogi from any giveaway motions of lying.

For three hours, this continued. Jiro and Keita had obtained, by that time, some questionable information surrounding the truth about the Black Crush and the case involving Shu. Rogi told them that the video tape was in the custody of the police (this Keita confirmed), that he was never involved in anything covert and criminal (at this, Jiro had to keep his features carefully schooled into neutrality), that Delphinium knew a lot about Nene and probably knew about the case more, that Jiro resembled someone he saw a few times before…Keita jumped up, ignoring Jiro's small exclamation of surprise.

"How do you know Yamaki?"

Rogi regarded him coolly. "I saw him a few times with Mr. Nene. They didn't…seem to get along very well. But that doesn't matter much, does it, police chief Keita? He is _dead_, after all." Keita's hands clenched into shaking fists. "How dare you…!" A cold hand on his right forearm stopped him from vaulting over the desk at Rogi. Jiro stood up, directed an ice-cold stare over to Rogi, bowed perfunctorily, and half-dragged Keita out.

"J-Jiro?" The teen in question looked back at the older male. "Where are we going?" Keita asked, not really minding the hand pulling him too much, but still confused. "Do you know where Yamaki's stuff is?" Keita's breath hitched sharply in his throat, and he abruptly stopped, inadvertently pulling Jiro back towards him. "I-I…Yeah, m-most of it's in my office…" _I couldn't bring myself to throw anything out. And I couldn't let them just tear everything away from me…at the very least, I wanted to have things to remember him by, even if it makes me just about cry every time I think of him…_

"Alright." Jiro didn't comment on the slightly haunted look Keita had possessed for a few moments. He shouldn't pry into something that had nothing to do with him…right? As if on cue, his head started to pound and then…

"_Daddy, who's that?" A very young boy _himself_ gestured with a tiny hand toward a photo. Besides the baby held tenderly in a woman's arms, there was another very small boy clinging to a man's hand. He could recognize himself, his mother, and his father, but the other boy…who was it? A look of sadness replaced the warm countenance of the older man, and Takeshi looked to a dove soaring soundlessly into the sky, before placing a large, calloused hand on his son's head. _

"_Your brother, Jiro. Your brother."_

Pain. Fogginess. A voice, wavering in and out of focus. And a warm, gravelly surface…Wait, what?

Jiro found himself staring at the sidewalk, face inches away from it, while the rest of his body rested heavily on the ground. The only thing keeping him from hitting the street face-first was Keita's arm, the latter having immediately dived towards him to prevent him from slamming his forehead against the pavement. Keita was murmuring softly, experienced in matters like this, knowing that loud noises would just aggravate any pain his younger friend was feeling. Jiro shot him a semi-grateful look before settling back onto his knees, leaning slightly against Keita to keep himself upright. _Again? A brother? Who…?_

"I think you've done enough for today, Jiro, " Keita worriedly admonished, helping the other stand. Jiro shook his head stubbornly (if there was one thing he and Shu were similar in, it was their amazing persistence) and lightly pushed Keita. "Lead the way, chief." With an irritated sigh, Keita started towards his office, trying not to cast concerned looks over to his side on the way there.

When the two reached the police headquarters, specifically Keita's office, Jiro watched impatiently as Keita unlocked the closet, where he kept Yamaki's belongings. They spent a while organizing it into categories such as "clothes, possible evidence, accessories, school, home" before settling down on the sofa in the office to look through the various things Yamaki had owned before his death. And before long…

Nothing turned up in the "possible evidence" section.

With a frustrated sigh, Jiro turned to the other piles. "Now if I was Yamaki, where would I put something regarding Nene…something top-secret…" Keita groaned, wincing a little at the first part of the question. Jiro ignored him (again) and rummaged through a few boxes in the "home and school" categories. Handing the police chief a school binder and a few notebooks, he ordered "look through these, something might turn up." When Keita looked up from what he had been assigned, he found Jiro staring at a green, leather-bound book. A…journal? Jiro stared at the cover. It felt like he was trespassing, like he was doing something wrong when he opened it, but this was to save someone…to condemn others. Keita yelped slightly.

"H-hey! L-let Yamaki have some privacy!" Jiro turned an annoyed stare to his companion. "This is for the good of the case. Don't worry, I'm not really interested in how Yamaki saw his life." Even though that was supposed to be true, he felt an innate sense of not telling the complete truth. Somehow, it felt as if he knew this "Yamaki" and internally, he thought he could sense some feelings of curiosity as to who this person was…And with that, he flipped the journal to the first page with writing on it. And promptly gasped. Written in neat black ink were the words _if you are reading this, then I am dead_.

It felt as if something was choking him. As if something eerie and suffocating had spread like a plague in the air to every corner of the room. _Yamaki expected someone to find this. He expected someone to read this. He expected…he expected to d-die._ Keita had hurried over and was gaping in undisguised horror and sorrow and the first nine words Yamaki had written in the little green book. Jiro closed his eyes for a long moment, forcing a lump of sudden apprehension down his throat. A morbid sense of foreboding rose up his spine and he forced his eyes open and started to read.

_Dear Keita, or whoever may be reading this:_

_This is the first entry of many to detail my path to death. If no one reads this, then it won't be a path to death. But since I'll burn it if I live through this ordeal, then I don't really need to change anything. But then, _you _are reading this, so I am gone. _

_By the way, it wasn't an accident. _

_You see, when I was really little, my family was really, really poor. And that monster, Nene, was getting…unpleased with how little we could give him. So he made my father give me to him. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he took me and not my little brother. By the way, I should probably tell you about my life before Nene. When I was three, my baby brother was born. Cute little thing with pretty teal eyes. If you know him, don't tell him I wrote that. He probably won't like it too much. I really liked taking care of him – Dad told me I was the best big brother he had ever seen. He was exaggerating, of course, but…I wish I could have found him throughout these years, granted he's still alive. He probably doesn't remember me. But I'd recognize him anywhere. _

_But enough about that. After I was taken by Nene, I was home-schooled and learned a bunch of junk under him. I never did care much for his 'lessons'. He taught me manipulation and stuff like that, and since I'm assuming I'm dead right now, that's probably why. I tried to use what he taught me against him. I tried to show the world who he really was. I was a threat to him, and he knew it. Else why did he take my dad in when my father had lost his memories? To keep me in line. To make sure I wouldn't cause trouble. And when I made friends with Keita (you? Are you reading this, Keita? If you are, flip to the third page, because I have a list of pages dedicated to you in here. Thanks for everything, by the way. You were the best friend a person could have.), well, he kept an even tighter leash on me. I met this guy named Rogi in January. Nene told me he's (he is Rogi's boss, Rogi is the boss of the Black Crush, which is the pre-Independent Corps, I guess that's what to call them) the leader of the Black Crush. I hate him. I hate him and Nene – they destroyed my village, Mafe, and killed my friends and family. My father doesn't remember anything (he does remember having two sons and a wife and apparently a daughter, and it kills me that I have to remind him constantly I'm the only one around anymore…well, not anymore, if you get what I mean), and my younger brother is either missing or dead. I…really hope he's just missing. But if he's dead…well, then, I'll meet him again either way. _

_I should probably write who are the main people in the Black Crush/Independent Troops/whatever they call themselves now. Nene's the leader of it all; Rogi is his right hand man. Rogi's main assistant, Schneider, is this blond teen that's just a bit younger than I am. Come to think of it, he's about two years older than my little bro. I talked to him a few times. He said a lot about how people don't deserve money or power and all that (but then look at Nene, does that guy deserve money?)because then they become corrupt (like Nene? Schneider…is a bit complicated.) and hurt others (Schneider, do you know you're your bosses are doing then?). When I asked him why he held those views, he told me that a kid he knew disappeared and probably died because his parents were greedy. The kid was his best friend who he saw as a little brother of sorts. The parents died. I wonder if he would change sides if I could find someone named "Andropov". A bit of a weird name…but I guess 'Yamaki' sounds weird to a lot of other people out there. _

_Cynthia and Lemaire, the people running the movie theater, make a lot of personal films if you pay them enough. They probably have those type of tapes everywhere – those personalized ones. They're really good at what they do, too. They make things look very real; heck, even when you know it's not possible, they make it seem more than just possible –they make it seem existent, real, an ordinary occurrence. Then there's that woman, Delphinium. She's the one at the front lobby of Rogi's hotel, with purple hair and dark blue eyes. She is really devoted to Nene (I don't really know why, maybe because he took her in after her family abandoned her?) and acts as the in-between person for Rogi and Nene. She knows a lot, probably more than Rogi does. It wouldn't faze me if she betrayed her immediate boss (Rogi) for Nene. After all, he is like a foster father to her. But I really don't understand how she can watch other families be torn apart, like mine. I should ask one of these days…if I don't die first. _

_That's long enough for a first entry, I suppose. Oh, and one more thing._

_My little brother's name is Jiro. _

And suddenly everything was terrifyingly clear and blurred at the same time. He wasn't sure when his tears started to fall, into a fisted, trembling hand while his mind tried to get past the fact that he had had an older brother who had loved him and that the said older brother was dead. Had expected to die. Had written a journal for someone, anyone, to find and use. And that…and that his father was alive. And apparently working for Nene. And then, suddenly, there was nothing but an abyss of darkness.

_Light. Too bright, way too bright. Putting a hand over his eyes, he turned onto his side to avoid whatever was getting past his eyelids. There was a childish giggle, and he opened his eyes to see a child about five years old smiling cheerfully at him. _

"_It's about time you woke up, little brother! Mom's getting worried because we're spending so much time on this hill," as the child spoke, his hands busied themselves with making a flower crown, weaving stems together, gently, gently… _

_And then nothing. The light was gone, the child was gone, the grassy hill dotted with so many different flowers was gone. Nothing but himself, floating in dark solitude. He tried to call out, but nothing came out of his throat. Silence. He couldn't even move. And then suddenly, cruel, cruel laughter…_

With a jolt, Jiro woke up to moonlight coming in from an open window. Looking around a bit dazedly and a bit wildly, he noted Keita snoring lightly, blanket covering his torso as he slept on the ground. He blinked and the noticed that he was on the sofa, another soft, green blanket half-off and half-on him. The journal was lying innocently on the ground, still open, the moonlight making the dark letters stand out more. With slightly shaky steps, he made his way to it and flipped to the other entries.

Some of them were about how home life was with Nene (horrible, terrible, boring), some of them about his friends (Jiro felt something inside of him twist while he read about the adventures and whatnot of the writer, Keita, Shu, and the other people), and yet others about very personal thoughts, such as his hopes and fears and dreams and the like. His own name would pop up several more times, usually accompanying anything about his…their father. And some parts were essential to proving Shu's innocence – it was as if Yamaki had also foreseen their predicament, and given a last parting gift.

Since he was going to stay the night anyways, Jiro settled himself in a better, more comfortable position before dozing off quietly, this time undisturbed by any dreams, nightmares or not.

When he woke up again, the sun was out and there was the smell of coffee wafting pleasantly in the air. Keita had gotten up before him and was pacing outside the door, apparently on the phone was someone. Jiro sipped lightly at the full cup of coffee before glancing at the green book again. They would need to keep it with one of them at all times…If Nene or Rogi or anyone helping them (this included his father, wherever he was, Jiro thought with a sudden sinking realization) were to find it…Keita chose that moment to reenter the room, blinking at Jiro before smiling wearily.

"Good morning." Jiro nodded to show he heard the other before finishing the rest of the coffee. He didn't really eat breakfast in the first place (although Zola did, and therefore he almost always ate some too), so it didn't matter that all they had for breakfast was a few apparently Swedish ginger cookies (that he found to be rather scrumptious, as this was the first time he had them).

"So what are we doing today?" Keita asked, a little too cheerfully. Jiro glanced up from a cookie and back down. "Does this mean you're letting me continue with the case?" The older male sighed. "What else can I do? You and Yamaki…and Shu…are all a little too stubborn for me to handle." This was said with a resigned, slightly forced smile and the younger of the two recoiled just slightly. He knew that what he was doing was dangerous and that he shouldn't just ignore Keita's feelings on the matter, but…

"We're…we're going to the movie theater today." Keita's eyes widened. "That one?" Jiro nodded, slightly hesitant but eager to get started. After all, yesterday had turned up so much…even if it had hurt…Keita sighed again but stood up. "Let's go to the hospital first. I think Shu's getting restless." Jiro snorted at that and followed the other to where a very impatient and worried Shu watched over a recovering Zola.

"Finally! Jeez, Keita, you said you'd chase him down, not invite him over to your place for coffee and dinner!" Shu complained quickly. It had annoyed him to no end in that Keita had been the one who went after Jiro, and not himself. He cared for Zola too, of course, but still…keeping vigil in the near-silent room was something he was too unaccustomed to. Sure there were times when one of the gang ended up in the hospital with a sprained ankle or a large cut or a broken bone, but none of them were in the wards for so long. Jiro muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Impatient idiot," before checking on Zola. Shu fumed slightly but held his breath instead of saying what he would have liked to say.

"So where are you going today?" Keita answered for the apprentice, "The movies." Shu gawked at him. "What?! How can you do that when there's something more important at hand!?" Jiro sighed, rubbing his right temple in an attempt to alleviate the pain of a worsening headache. _So noisy…_Keita shot a look at his friend and decided to answer again.

"We wouldn't go there to watch movies for fun. There was evidence from yesterday's leads that we'd find something there." Shu calmed down at that and shot a sheepish, apologetic look at Jiro, who was glaring daggers at him. Suddenly, a thought struck him and he perked up immediately. "Can I go this time?" Keita and Jiro exchanged looks with each other. _This guy is an idiot._ Shu wilted slightly at the silent exchange. "Why not?" Jiro sighed, irritated. "It's too obvious what we're doing if you come instead of Keita. If they're guilty, they'll recognize you right away and make it hard for us to investigate." Shu sighed at this. "But I want to help…I bet my friends would want to help, too…" Keita looked up sharply. "If they would come, the help would be good. But it won't be the safest thing to do…" Jiro nodded to the second part. He really didn't want any more people involved than was necessary.

"We'll help!" A new voice piped up. Kluke waved cheerfully from the door. The whole Shadows' Powers was there, crowding the doorway. Jiro and Keita blinked before the latter smiled and waved back. Jiro turned his gaze to Zola. _I wish you could see how the case is turning out. I wish you were here. I really…do need your guidance, your support._

"Well then…" Keita clapped his hands together. "We'll split up roles. Some of you will come with us to investigate and some of us will stay here with Shu to provide Zola with some extra protection." Both Sahlia and Bouquet wanted to stay with Shu, but it was decided that Bouquet would go with the first group (Shu had gently told her that he knew she could help them more and with that…), which then consisted of Jiro, Keita, Bouquet, Kluke, and Andropov. The latter group consisted of Shu, Marumaro, Noi, and Sahlia. Once the first group reached Keita's car, he looked over their impromptu "squad" and smiled to himself before unlocking the doors. Jiro, who seemed to be deep in thought, took the passenger seat next to Keita, leaving the other three to jam into the back. Keita clucked his tongue, "Seatbelts on?" Receiving affirmations from the other four, he grinned and pulled the gear into the necessary functions (reverse/drive), shifting the car easily out of the parking space and towards the movie theater. Hopefully, their luck would be good again. Hopefully, something would turn up. Hopefully…_hopefully, I can help do Yamaki justice and help Jiro save Shu. Hopefully._

Owari

More than four thousand words this time…And so hard to write…Like I wrote above, I lost all the notes I had concerning this fic so…I'm rewriting the whole ending, the whole climax and the rest of the rising action. Well, one thing's cleared up at least and so many leads…Anyways, review if you'd like to! (It'd help a lot; I'm drained and still nervous about how well this turned out. It was impromptu, almost…)


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